


Moving On

by flawedamythyst



Category: Men With Brooms (2002), Slings & Arrows, Wilby Wonderful (2004), due South
Genre: Crossover, M/M, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:00:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fraser and Ray K's Great Canadian Adventure ends with a mafia trial, they both have to go into the witness protection program and don't see each other until some years later, on a small island called Wilby.</p><p>Yes, this is an attempt to fit all the canons into one storyline. As such, I've fiddled with some of the details/timelines to get it all to fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moving On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lexigent](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexigent/gifts).



This was not how the Great Canadian Adventure was meant to go, thought Ray for the hundredth time as he tried to balance on the ladder, get the banner to hang straight, and not end up falling to his death off the bridge.

The problem was that he hadn't factored in Fraser's ridiculous ability to find criminals everywhere he went, even in the middle of a vast, snowy wilderness. Who the hell would have thought that the head of the Savalli family would have a Canadian shack that he used to plan all his most illegal operations?

Fraser, apparently, because he'd seemed completely unsurprised by the whole thing. The whole gang had flown in for a pow-wow about some massive drug deal, and he had immediately leapt in with all the usual hi-jinx, escapades and frankly ridiculous stunts. Then there had been a trial and giving evidence, followed by threats from the mafia and witness protection, and the long and the short of it was that Ray had ended up here, hanging a poster that said Wilby Wonderful and hoping he wasn't about to take an unexpected dip into the river below.

The thought reminded him of the guy he'd seen here earlier, standing on the railings and clearly about to jump. He'd seen him before somewhere, where the hell had that been?

It took him until he'd hung another three of the banners before he realised. He'd seen him up at the Watch. Jesus, no wonder the guy had been looking to jump off a bridge.

God, this kind of thing made Ray so fucking nuts. This was why small town life sucked, and Fraser could stuff his _sense of community_ and _neighbourly friendliness_. Where the hell was the sense of community when a few guys were caught letting some steam off somewhere out of everyone's way? Nowhere, that's where – it was all pointing fingers and cold stares and _it's not decent._ Fuck that.

Dan. That had been the guy's name. Maybe Ray should keep an eye for him, make sure he didn't find some other bridge.

****

Okay, so, cards on the table. Ray had gone up to the Watch more than few times to find a friendly face and helping hand. Well, what else was he supposed to do? Fraser had made it more than clear that it was never gonna be his hand, even before the whole witness protection thing had seen them split up and living completely separate lives for a few years. Ray had been sent to a tiny town near Winnipeg, which was possibly the only place more boring than Wilby. Fuck knew where Fraser had gone. All Ray knew was that when his cover got blown and he got pulled, the bigwigs in charge had finally agreed to let him go where Fraser was, only for him to find the bastard had got married.

Married. To some uptight bitch who spent all her waking hours on her career, Jesus. Although, fair's fair, that did seem to be Fraser's type. Maybe Ray should have spent more time walking all over Fraser and seen where that got him.

Nah, he'd still be here, exactly where he was now. Watching Fraser from afar and barely even friends any more, cos that shit got awkward once one person knew the other really wanted to bone him. And now he was about to have his name – well, the name he answered to now – published in the Island Sentinel in a list of deviant perverts, or whatever crap they were going to call it, and Fraser was too distracted by women to be any help. Yeah, women plural – half the island had noticed Fraser and Sandra going at it whenever they could. Who knew the guy had it in him? In Chicago it had always seemed as if he just didn't notice how many women were desperate to throw themselves at him. Maybe he’d finally opened his eyes and decided 'fuck, why not?' Hard to blame the guy for that, even if it did push Ray even more to the outside of his life than he had been before.

And now he had to worry about this thing with Dan as well. Ray had got all the gossip on him now: Dan Jarvis, ran the video store, married but his wife had run off back to the mainland recently and, oh yeah, everyone knew he'd been up at the Watch, even before the paper published it. Poor guy.

Ray wasn't a cop anymore, but that didn't mean he could stand by and watch without doing anything. He kept an eye out for Dan, tried to just be there as unobtrusively as possible. He'd had enough bad times of his own to know that words were never any help, but sometimes a quiet presence could turn things around.

Except that didn't seem to be helping on this one, and Ray was getting worried. He was starting to like the guy more and more now that he'd watched him for a bit. His video store had a stash of superhero films, which Ray could get behind. Maybe he never quite grew up like Stella always said, but there was something about Captain America that still got him as excited as he had been when he was a kid reading his first comic.

That night, Ray found himself sitting outside Dan's motel room in his crappy truck, not sure which he missed more - the GTO or having someone with him when he did a stakeout. Jesus fuck, he was so sick of all this damned pining over Fraser. Seriously, it had been _years_. When was he going to manage to just let the guy go?

The door of Dan's room opened and he came out with a small bag, heading for his truck. Ray wasn't stupid; he didn't think Dan had suddenly decided to go off on a trip. Well, not one he meant to return from, anyway. A beat passed, and Ray abruptly realised that he was sick of just watching everything going on around him. Time to make his mark on the world.

He climbed out of his truck and headed over to Dan. “Hey there,” he said. “Got a couple of minutes?”

Dan wanted nothing to do with him, that much was clear, but Ray was pretty good at barrelling past that and getting his way anyway. Persistence was the key – that was how he'd got Stella, even if that had ended up being a huge fucking mistake. He'd hoped it would be enough to get Fraser, but – no. Stop. Enough about Fraser.

He got Dan back inside his motel room and then realised he had no idea what to say. Crap. What did two guys usually do in these sorts of situations? Drink beer, probably. Well, that wasn't gonna fly.

“I would have brought a bottle, but I gave it up,” he said. “Didn't agree with me. Well, it did agree with me, but on all the wrong stuff.” 

Probably best to open up a bit, show some vulnerability or some such shit, if he was expecting the same in return. What he wasn't going to do was say that he gave up because he found it way too easy to crawl inside a bottle once he realised he was stranded in fucking Manitoba with yet another name that wasn't his, and that this time there was no way in fuck a Mountie was going to turn up and make him want to keep hold of that name for good.

Fuck, and now he was back on Fraser. Jesus, did his brain never stop?

All he got for that comment was a nod and a vague noise. Right, well, time for some more persistence, then.

“How you doing with everything?”

Dan looked indescribably sad. He didn't need to add words to the expression, because it said everything. After years of Fraser's complete inability to show his feelings, that was a welcome change, even if Ray could have done with a different expression to demonstrate it. He wondered if it was as obvious when Dan was happy, and hoped he'd have the chance to find out.

“Maybe it's for the best,” he tried, knowing it was bullshit as he said it. “I mean, once they publish the names, everyone will know.” Jesus, what the fuck was he talking about? Time for a joke. “Maybe next year we'll have a parade.” Okay, so, not a good joke, but it was a start.

Dan didn't laugh at it. He didn't even smile. He just gave Ray a 'who are you kidding?' look. Yeah, okay. Time to get off this depressing topic. Music, that's what they needed. It cheered everything up.

“Mind some music?”

“Yeah, sure,” said Dan, and Ray realised it was the first thing he'd said since they'd got in the motel room. There had to be some way to get more out of him.

He turned on the radio, which was playing some depressing-as-fuck woman singer, but it was a start. It wasn't as if listening to Outkast or Green Day was gonna fit with the mood right now.

When he sat back down, he sat on the bed, next to Dan. He couldn't have said why, really, except the guy managed to look so lonely and isolated, even with only a few feet of space around him, that Ray just had to try and break through that.

“So what do you like to do?” he asked, hoping for at least some small talk, and then abruptly realised how it sounded when they were sitting on a bed together. Shit. Last thing he wanted was for Dan to just think he was there for a quick fuck. Not that he'd say no to that, but it didn't really seem like a good idea right now.

“What do you mean?” asked Dan.

“I mean, what do you like to do? Do you have any hobbies or anything?”

That just served to make Dan looked even more puzzled. “Oh,” he said. “I, um.” He shook his head, thinking. 

That was probably fair – Ray wasn't sure how he'd respond in that same situation. Pining over a married Mountie? Hiding from mobsters?

“I don't know, not really.”

Damn it, that conversational gambit had fallen flat. “'Kay,” said Ray. Shit, what now? Ask what kind of music he liked? The track had changed to something more upbeat, if it was a bit country. Well, this was Wilby. Country was pretty much all there was. “This is a good one,” he said.

Dan looked as if he was hearing it for the first time. Luckily, he didn't bother pursuing the frankly lame topic.

“When I told my wife,” he started, and Ray felt a wave of relief. Finally, his persistence had paid off. Or maybe Dan was just as desperate not to have a conversation about music as he was. “She said – I mean, I, ah, never really had that physical-type husband and wife-type relationship.” 

Well, that sounded like the last couple of years with Stella. “Right,” said Ray, hoping it sounded encouraging.

“But when it happened I told her, and I knew she'd be- but, she said I hope you rot in hell.”

Oh, Christ, that was even worse than Ray had figured. What the hell was wrong with some people?

“Takes time for people,” he said, because that was one thing he'd learned in his forty-plus years of getting kicked about by life. Sometimes, you just had to roll with the punches, and wait for people to get the fuck over it already.

Dan nodded, staring down at his hands. He was looking miserable again and Ray wanted, more than anything, to be able to wipe that away. Or at least make a start on it by showing Dan that he wasn't alone, that not everyone was going to hate him over this.

He leaned over and reached out for the line of Dan's jaw. There was the scrape of stubble under his fingers, which reminded him of everything he loved about touching men: all those rough edges and hard lines.

“It's rough,” he said.

“Sorry,” said Dan in a voice that was little more than a whisper.

Ah, fuck no, no man should have to apologise for packing a bit of stubble. “No, I like it,” said Ray, possibly too forcefully, but Dan stared at him for a moment, then the corner of his mouth twitched up and fuck, if that wasn't the most reaction Ray had got from him so far.

“I like Westerns,” offered Dan.

It took Ray a moment to get what the hell he was talking about. “What do you mean?”

“Something I like,” said Dan, looking as if he'd surprised himself just by thinking of something. “I like Western movies.” He gave a huffing, deprecating laugh.

Well, okay, it wasn't superheroes, but the guys in Westerns were really just like early versions of superheroes, right? Only without the powers. Ray could get behind that, no pun intended.

“That makes sense. You're kind of a cowboy,” he said.

Dan gave him a disbelieving look,and Ray decided he was going to find some way to prove it to him.

“Quiet cowboy,” he clarified. The strong, silent type. Okay, maybe Fraser wasn't the only one with a type.

And then, just as everything was starting to relax between them, Ray fucked it up, like he always did. He leant in for a kiss and Dan ducked away.

“You should go,” he said. “I, uh, sorry.”

“No problem,” said Ray, cursing himself.

“I have something to do,” said Dan, and got up. “I'll see you,” he said, and left.

“No problem,” said Ray again, uselessly. Damn it, he hadn't even managed a stay of execution with this stunt. In fact, all he'd done was get to know the guy well enough that it was really gonna hurt if – when – he turned up dead.

****

Dan didn't end up dead. Not quite, although it was a damned close thing. Carol found him and cut him down in time, and who knew Ray would ever end up being grateful to her? Not that it took long for the gratefulness to get swept away when he found out she'd stashed what she'd thought was his corpse in a cupboard under the stairs. What kind of a person did that? How could Fraser bring himself to stay with a woman that heartless?

He went to see Dan in the hospital, who didn't say much – well, his throat was probably killing him – but he said enough. He reached out for Ray's hand and pulled it to his face, and Ray found himself grinning at him as if he'd won the Superbowl or something. It kinda felt like he had. He'd forgotten just how great it was when someone liked you back, and how it felt like a whole realm of possibilities were just opening up.

Which, naturally, was when a nurse came in. She gave a little gasp as if she'd caught them with their pants down, going at it like rabbits, rather than just touching each other's faces, and Ray suddenly remembered all the shit he really hated about small town life.

“You'll have to leave, sir,” she said coldly once she had her composure back. “The patient needs his rest.”

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ray. He looked at Dan, who gave him a little smile and an eyeroll. Ray couldn't keep the smile from his face, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, ignoring the choked noise of shock from the nurse. Fuck her. Fuck all of them. Ray had gone through too much shit not to take the chance to enjoy the very few good things that happened to him.

“You'll come by again?” asked Dan as Ray stood up.

Ray nodded, possibly too fervently. “'Course,” he said. It was enough to win him another smile. Fuck, he really did do happy with his whole face, like he did with sad. Ray was going to enjoy making that happen as often as possible.

The nurse gave him a disgusted look as he left, which he entirely ignored. What the fuck did he care what someone like her thought?

He left the hospital feeling lighter than he had in years. Even seeing Fraser and his wife walking home together, looking closer to each other than they had in ages, didn’t put a damper on his mood. So what if Fraser was happy with his wife like he'd never have been with Ray? There was someone else for Ray to spend too much time thinking about now.

****

Once Dan was out of hospital, Ray got into the habit of meeting him at Sandra's café. The move wasn't universally welcomed, and they got more than their share of glares and comments from folk like Irene, but as long as Dan kept smiling at Ray's bad jokes, he wasn't going to care too much about that.

They let things develop slowly. Well, Dan was still so twisted up about his wife and all that stuff that some days Ray couldn't make him smile at all, no matter how bad his jokes were, and Ray still found himself thinking about Fraser once in a while, like it was some kind of reflex he had to unlearn. Better for them both if they eased into this rather than running at it full-tilt and only managing to break apart.

They spent long evenings watching videos together, nestled together on the sofa exchanging the occasional kiss but not really going any further. Ray began to see what Dan liked about Westerns, and worked on persuading him that superheroes were awesome in return. Every night, it took Dan longer to finally drag himself off the sofa and out of Ray's house, until the day Ray took the plunge and said, “Hey, why don't you just stay?”

The day after that, Ray couldn't stop himself from whistling as he repainted the railings around the Post Office. For the first time in a very long while, things seemed to be going his way. Well, okay, maybe not career-wise, and definitely not when you considered that he was still stuck in small town Hell, but at least he had Dan now. And Dan had him, and liked having him, which was a fucking awesome feeling.

Which, naturally, was when Fraser and his wife walked by, bickering over something. Ray waited for the familiar stab of _but why doesn’t he want me?_ but it never hit. Huh. He looked at Fraser's face as he gritted his teeth with frustration at whatever Carol was saying and realised that, okay, yeah, he was objectively better-looking than Dan, but it was still Dan's face, long beak of a nose and all, that he'd prefer to be looking at right now. Well, how about that?

“For God's sake, Buddy, I thought you understood how important this meeting was to my work,” snapped Carol, then turned on her heel and stomped away, leaving Fraser to stare after her. He let out a long breath, then turned and caught Ray watching. Awkward.

Rather than glaring or running away though, he gave Ray a rueful look. “I suppose the whole town knows we're arguing a lot at the moment.”

The precise rumour was that they were on the brink of divorce, although which of them was filing for it depended on who you talked to, and occasionally there were some more imaginative embellishments. According to Maureen, the dark secret at the heart of the problem was the discovery of an illegitimate child, although she wouldn't confirm whose it was. Beth-Anne was adamant it was drugs. Tim had a whole long thing that included illegitimate children, drugs, a secret past as a pole-dancer and a dead cat, but Ray thought he was just kidding around.

“Well, you are doing it on the main street,” pointed out Ray.

Fraser nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed with a sigh. He glanced both ways, then stepped a bit closer to Ray. “Do you ever find this situation to be too much?”

Ray stared at him. “What situation?” he asked.

Fraser made a face. “You know what situation. Trying to live as someone else.”

Interesting. Ray hadn't ever thought he was living as someone else. He was still him, even if he didn't have the same name, or job, or publicly acknowledged past. If Duck was different from how Ray had been, that had more to do with the experiences he'd had and how they'd changed him than anything else.

“Look,” said Fraser, looking around again. “This isn't a good place to talk about this, but I would appreciate it if we could talk. Will you meet me later?”

He was doing the earnest 'I need you, Ray' look that Ray hadn't seen in years, and there was only response Ray could make. “Sure.”

Fraser relaxed. “Good,” he said. “Thank you. I'll meet you up at the Watch at around 8, then.”

He left before Ray could point out what a terrible idea that was. Great, so much for the post-sex buzz he'd been riding.

****

Fraser was already at the Watch when Ray got there, standing on a rock and staring out to sea with a look that Ray associated with wide stretches of snow-covered wilderness. For a moment, he looked so much like the Fraser that Ray had been finally starting to understand before the presence of the Savalli family ended their adventure that Ray had to take in a tight breath and remind himself that all that had been done with years ago.

Fraser turned to face him and something about his posture changed to be closer to how Buddy stood.

“Hey, Duck,” he said. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“Hey, Fraser,” said Ray, and almost smiled at the way Fraser twitched at that, glancing around to make certain of what Ray already knew. They were the only ones out on the Watch tonight, there was no one around to hear him use a real name for once.

Fraser took a deep breath and all the Buddy melted out of him. “Ray,” he acknowledged. “Thank you for coming.”

“Thank you kindly?” asked Ray, and only got a confused look in return. Okay, fine, no teasing the guy. “What did you want to talk about?”

Fraser frowned slightly, then glanced out to sea again. “I'm not entire sure,” he said. “I just wanted to be able to discuss things with someone who understood.”

“You never told Carol about it then?” asked Ray.

Fraser looked more than surprised at the idea, he actually looked horrified. God, no wonder his marriage was on the rocks. “Of course not, Ray. She only knows Buddy. Anything more would cause confusion.”

“For you or her?” asked Ray.

Fraser thought for a moment. “For me,” he admitted. “I couldn't – it's bad enough when I see you, and I can see you're looking at Fraser, not Buddy. I couldn't manage that with someone I live with.”

Ray stared at him, and then slowly shook his head. “Don't take this the wrong way, man, but you're seriously fucked up.”

Fraser let out a short breath. “Yes,” he acknowledged. “I suppose I am. That was why I wanted to talk to you, I think, to see if you were having the same problems.”

“Not even a little bit,” said Ray. Fraser basically slumped at that, and Ray began to feel really sorry for the guy. He wasn't cut out for all this constantly-living-a-lie shit, that much was obvious. 

He walked over to the rock Fraser was standing on and sat down on the edge of it. After a moment, Fraser joined him.

“It's just names,” said Ray. “I'm still the same person, whether you call me Ray or Duck or Frank or, I don't know, Petunia. It's still me.”

“But it isn't,” said Fraser. “All those names have different histories. Different pasts that have made them into different men.” Ray gave him a 'what the fuck are you talking about now, Fraser' look that felt way too familiar on his face, even after all these years.

“Well, Buddy was born in a small town community very similar to this one, then became a policeman and transferred here because he likes the coast. He likes watching baseball with a cold beer. He's a lot more open and relaxed and-”

“No, he ain't,” interrupted Ray. “He hasn't told his wife anything about the first thirty-odd years of his life. Nothing open about him.”

Fraser shook his head impatiently. “Of course he has. He's told her all about his teenage years, and his first job as a busboy and all of that. It's _Fraser_ who hasn't told her anything.”

Jesus fuck. The guy was even more messed up than Ray had realised.

“I am aware of how that sounds,” said Fraser after a moment or two of Ray wondering how to tell Fraser that he needed professional help. “But that's how it is. When you're playing a role, you have to live inside it. You put on the clothes of a new person, and you become that person. You put on their history and their personality and their mannerisms at the same time.”

Ray stared at him. The thing was he could remember, back when they were in Chicago and everything still mostly made sense, noticing that Fraser was always a slightly different person when he was out of uniform. He'd thought that had been to do with some sort of living-up-to-the-uniform bull, but maybe it was more that when he'd been dressed all in red he was Constable Benton Fraser of the RCMP, and when he wasn't, he could just be Benton Fraser. Whoever that was.

The same thing had happened up north as well. The further they'd gone into the wilderness, the more relaxed Fraser had become, until he was rolling in the snow with Diefenbaker, barely recognisable as the cardboard cut-out of a Canadian stereotype that he had been when Ray met him. And then they'd run into the Savalli family, and he'd snapped straight back into RCMP-mode.

Had Fraser been acting his whole life? Jesus, no wonder he seemed so distant from everyone else.

“That isn't how it goes at all,” he said. “Whatever name you have, it's still you, Fraser. If you can't be you, then what's the point?”

Fraser shook his head. “Duck is different from Ray. He's a lot quieter.”

“I've had a hard few years,” said Ray. “Plus, I'm not a cop anymore; I don't need to talk to everyone. If I want to just fade into the background a bit, I can. That's the only difference.” He couldn't help adding, “If you'd taken the chance to actually talk to me when I got here, you'd have realised that.”

Fraser shook his head. “How could I? Buddy doesn't know anyone called Ray. Talking to you would just have confused everything.”

Ray had nothing to say to that. He rather thought Buddy could have got to know Ray, or Duck, who the fuckever he wanted to believe Ray was right now, if only for the sake of the years they'd spent being friends. He looked out over the ocean and thought of Dan. He might be quiet, but everything he said or did was 100% him. He didn't bother with acting or subterfuge or what the hell ever Fraser was going on about.

“Carol is divorcing me,” said Fraser eventually. “It's all falling apart for me here, like it did at the other places they sent me. I can't seem to make a life that works.”

“Because you're not being you,” said Ray. “Next time, try ignoring what your name is, and just be you. Who you are, not who you think you should be. And maybe ask your case worker if there's any way you can talk to a counsellor or someone who knows about this whole thing.”

Fraser shook his head. “I don't need a counsellor, I'm fine.”

“You're not fine,” said Ray. “Look, Fraser, this it. This is the rest of our lives. You need to work out who you are, and then live your life as that person. This isn't short-term.”

“I am aware of that, Ray,” said Fraser. Ray didn't believe him at all, but what could he do? Nothing stubborner than a Mountie.

His phone buzzed and he glanced at it. Text from Dan.

_Can I come over tonight?_

Hell yes, he could. “Look, Fraser, I gotta go.”

Fraser sighed and nodded. “I understand. You have other priorities.”

“I'm building a life,” corrected Ray, standing up. “You need to do the same thing. Look, maybe you should try telling Carol about at least some of this, it might-”

He was already shaking his head. “There's no point in that. She has already made up her mind.”

Ray clapped a hand to Fraser's shoulder. “Sorry, man.” He hesitated, but couldn't think of anything else to say that might help. “I'll see you around, yeah?”

“Yes,” said Fraser. “Goodbye, Ray.”

Ray left him there, still staring out to sea as if it contained answers instead of fish, and went to find his boyfriend.

****

Dan didn't ask where Ray had been until quite a few hours later, when they were lying comfortably together in bed. Ray had one hand resting on Dan's chest, feeling it fill and empty with air and letting the rhythm of it pull him into sleep.

“Sandra said she saw you going up to the Watch earlier,” said Dan, and his voice was just about as neutral as it could be.

Ray felt himself tense, and then wanted to smack himself. He hadn't done anything wrong, so acting as if he had was just going to cause problems. “I was meeting Buddy,” he said. “He wanted to talk. You know he and Carol are having problems.”

“Ah,” said Dan quietly. “I didn't know you were close to him.”

Ray let a breath pass by. He'd told Fraser that he should tell Carol at least some of the truth, so he should probably put his money where his mouth was and do the same thing. “We used to be friends,” he said, cautiously. “A long time ago, somewhere far away from Wilby.”

“Oh, right,” said Dan. He didn't ask for any further explanations, and Ray thought the topic had been shelved.

He shut his eyes again, trying to find the calm he'd had before.

“You know,” said Dan, and Ray opened his eyes again, “I used to be friends with Buddy as well. Not close, but we used to be on the same curling team.” Dan curled? Oh, Christ, did that mean Ray was going to have to watch a game? Despite the years he'd spent in Canada, he'd manage to avoid seeing any of the so-called sport since that long ago time when he'd been trapped in the Canadian Consulate and Turnbull had forced it on him.

“Course, he wasn't called Buddy then,” continued Dan. “He was called Chris. He was one of the greatest players I've ever seen.”

Of course Fraser did everything perfectly, even stupid not-really-a-sport things like curling. “Yeah, he's got a lot of unexpected talents,” said Ray, hoping he wasn't going to have to field any questions about why he might have changed his name.

“Yeah,” agreed Dan, and there was silence again.

Ray thought about just going back to falling asleep and leaving the conversation as it was, but that seemed like a bit of a dick move. He turned over so that he could wrap his arm around Dan's waist.

“Lots of talents, but not a lot of stability,” he said. “At least, not right now.”

“Not really then, either. I overheard him talking to a dead man, once,” said Dan.

Ray snorted. “Only once?” he asked. Jesus, sometimes in Chicago it seemed like Fraser spent more time talking to his dead father and then pretending he wasn't, than he did talking to Ray.

Dan shrugged his shoulders. “I was a funeral director at the time,” he said. “I spent far more time talking to dead people.”

Ray blinked, and raised his head to look at Dan. “You were a funeral director?” he asked.

Dan nodded. “I hated it. I just did it because my wife wanted me to – my first wife, that is.”

Ray had had no idea he'd had a first wife. He suddenly realised that he knew just as little about Dan's life as Dan did about his, and that it was probably just as complicated as his, even if he’d had the same name the whole time. It was a nice thought, because that meant they could uncover each other's pasts together. Ray quite liked the sound of that.

He settled back down again. “Some day I'll tell you all the things I did because my ex-wife wanted me to, and you can have a good laugh at me.”

Dan snorted. "I nearly joined a country club," he said.

Ray winced. "Jesus," he said. "Okay, you might have me beat there. Well, except for the dancing."

"Dancing?" asked Dan.

"Ballroom dancing," clarified Ray.

Dan let out an amused breath. "And she didn't realise you were gay?"

Ray weakly hit at him. "Shut up. Plenty of straight guys do it."

There was another pause, a more relaxed one this time.

"Duck," said Dan hesitantly, and Jesus, that sounded wrong in this moment. Kinda ruined that lovely atmosphere of closeness when the other guy didn’t even know your real name.

“It’s not-” said Ray, then stopped himself. Shit, this was a huge risk. If his case worker found out he’d let this slip, she’d beat him to death with a chair, then send him to the shittiest hellhole she could find. Still, he couldn’t keep doing this thing with Dan if he wasn’t willing to let some of the truth out. Talking to Fraser had made that clear. 

He took a deep breath, and then pulled away so that he could look Dan in the eye. “Look, you can’t tell no-one else this, okay? Can’t use it anywhere but in private, but my name – my real name – is Ray.”

Dan’s eyes widened, but he just nodded without asking any questions. “Ray, then,” he said, and the way his voice fitted around Ray’s name, the fact that he hadn’t started to ask four hundred inconvenient questions, even the way his hand reached out to touch Ray’s shoulder as if he realised what a big deal this was, all added up to send a surge of pure affection through Ray, putting a lump in his throat that he had to kiss Dan to get rid of.

“Yeah,” he said, once he’d got a lid on it all. “Yeah, that’s it.”

Dan smiled at him, and there was nothing but affection on his face. Fuck, Ray really loved how expressive his face was. He kissed him again, then settled back down. “What were you going to say?”

"You've lived places that aren't Wilby."

"Yeah," agreed Ray. "So have you."

"Yeah. I just- I'm not sure I want to stay here. Not for good. We moved here because my wife wanted to – I think she was thinking about children. But I don't-" He cut himself off, sounding as if he was getting wound up, and Ray stepped in.

"Yes," he said. "I mean, if you're saying you wanted to move somewhere else, then yes, I'd go with you. I've got no ties here."

The air Dan exhaled felt as if it took a good amount of the tension in his muscles with him. "Okay," he said. "Good, that's good. Ray."

Ray had to kiss him again for that, and things got a bit out of hand. Well, more accurately, they got into hand, but Ray wasn’t going to start splitting hairs.

****

It was pretty easy to plan a move away from Wilby. Ray had a word with his case worker, Dan put his movie shop up for sale, and they made a list of places they wouldn't mind living. Somewhere with more people than Wilby, that might be a bit more open-minded, but still with a bit of countryside. Dan seemed to count access to a large body of probably freezing cold of water to go swimming in as necessity, but if that meant he was going to strip off and get soaking wet, Ray wasn’t exactly going to complain.

Dan sold his shop to a guy from the mainland. The day he went over to sign the contract, Ray went to meet him from the ferry only to find Fraser already there, carrying a couple of bags.

"I'm leaving," said Fraser, looking faintly embarrassed to be caught.

Ray hadn't hear the first thing about that, which seemed pretty unlikely given the usual Wilby gossip mill. He raised his eyebrows.

Fraser looked even more embarrassed. "I haven't really mentioned it to anyone," he said. "I just need to get away. Find somewhere new."

"Be someone new?" asked Ray.

Fraser lifted a shoulder. "My case worker has a place for me in a town called New Burbage. I mentioned to her the problems I was having, and she seemed to think that meant I should become an actor. I’m not sure she quite understood what I was saying."

Ray, who had suffered through several of Fraser’s attempts to communicate his feelings, was willing to bet he’d told an Inuit story and expected her to get what he meant. Still, didn’t mean the whole idea was crazy. "Could be a good fit," he offered. "Just leave the acting for when you're on-stage, yeah? Try being yourself the rest of the time."

"Yes," said Fraser, although he didn't sound completely sure. Well, screw it. Ray had done what he could for the man, it was up to him now.

"Duck," called a voice, and he turned to see that the ferry had come in, and that Dan was already off it. He grinned and held his hand up in greeting.

Fraser's eyes darted between them. "I'm glad you're happy, Ray," he said quietly, then headed off to the ferry before Ray could respond.

Dan gave him a frown as he went past him, then looked back at Ray. "Everything okay?" he asked.

"Fine," said Ray. "How'd the sale go?"

A smile broke out on Dan's face, transforming it. "All complete," he said. "We can leave Wilby whenever we want now."

"Fabulous," said Ray, reaching out to take his hand and thread their fingers together. "Looking forward to it."


End file.
